Asylum
by Faux-Naif
Summary: A young woman's husband abandons her when she becomes ill. Or does he... Tell me if you love it. Tell me if you hate it. Tell me if it bores you to tears. Oneshot?


The disease has ravaged my body and deprived me of my once youthful state of mind, leaving me a wizened old crone at the age of 26. I, Felicity Ann Caldwell (maiden surname Lamport) am dictating my Memoir along with my Last Will and Testament to my lawyer, the only person who frequents my bedside. It seems my husband only married me for my wealth and my body. Seeing as both are deteriorating rapidly, his absence brings little surprise. It pains me to admit to my father's apt judge of character. He was right yet again.

As a child I was allowed more freedom than most young girls of my class, but once I reached the age of 12 my beloved riding pants were exchanged for a corset. Shortly thereafter, I was shipped off to the Edith Grantsdale Academy for Young Girls. Don't think too highly of its pretentious name, it was basically a finishing school with a bit of basic mathematics thrown in for legal reasons. A few months prior to my sixteenth birthday I graduated (with surprisingly few demerits) and returned home to await my future husband and escape life in the dull English countryside.

He came three years later in the form of Edmund Caldwell, an apprentice to my father's most trusted accountant. Although his arrival in a dowdy, misshapen carriage pulled by a sickly, mud-encrusted, donkey hardly lived up to my naïve anticipations, I was completely enthralled with this man upon first sight. His piercing, wide-set ice blue eyes caught me off guard, forcing me to stare at him longer than socially appropriate. Astonishingly high cheekbones and hair the color of melted chocolate made all snide comments about his lack in stature flee from my dumbstruck mind. His flawless skin was just pale enough to hint at a higher upbringing but not translucent enough to appear feminine. He was too much of a gentleman to comment on my gawking (which much to my own chagrin was blatantly obvious) and instead invited me to dinner. A few months later, we became engaged. There was only one problem. He was Irish.

My father loathes the Irish with a passion almost greater than his lust for food. It's the accent more than anything else. It annoys him to no end. When asked, he claims this fervent hatred is due to some ancient sin against him and being of a naturally stubborn disposition, refuses to discuss it any further. My mother agreed with my father as usual. I love her dearly but she is wholly incapable of voicing her own opinion. In the end, I decided to risk disownment and married Edmund.

Until just recently, I was convinced I made the right decision. We have two darling children, a boy and a girl, and a rather large flat in an upscale neighborhood of London. My parents eventually forgave me (it took two years) when they realized how happy we were and met their grandchildren. All was perfect until I got sick.. Now the children live with my Mum and Dad, the flat is up for sale, and Edmund has disappeared. I should have listened to my parents. As they say hindsight is always 20/20.

Now to the most important part of this depressing document, my Last Will. To my daughter, Elisabeth Ann Caldwell, I bequeath to you my vast collection of jewelry and clothing. To my son, Edmund Caldwell III, I bequeath to you my antique 9-foot concert grand Bösendorfer piano, of which we are both very fond of. Both aforementioned children shall receive 25 of my net worth of 65 million GBP upon their completion of at least two years of college. The remaining 50 shall go to my husband Edmund Caldwell II, 6 months after my death. Even though you deserted me, you vile man, I more or less still love you.

There was a knock at the door and a nurse popped her head in.

"Mr. Caldwell." She sang in an obnoxiously cheerful voice. "Visiting hours are over. I'm afraid you are going to have to leave."

"For the love of God, woman!" Felicity shrieked. "Must I remind you each day. This man is not my husband."

"I'm terribly sorry madam. I simply forgot." The nurse replied. The man seated next to her stood and put down the pen he was holding.

"It's quite all right." He interrupted. "No harm done." He turned towards Felicity and smiled. "I'll see you tomorrow, love."

"Yes...well…I suppose you will .Good bye then." And with that he left.

As the fair-skinned, blue eyed man, walked down the hall, a doctor intercepted him.

"Mr. Caldwell." The doctor said. "As you know, your wife's Perirhinal Cortex was damaged after her accident, but we didn't know to what extent. "

"Yes, I remember."

"Well, it seems her memory was affected far less than we originally anticipated and it is quite possible she will make a near complete recovery. If you could bring in a few things to evoke ..."And without another word or a glance behind him Edmund rushed out of the hospital in search of something to spark Felicity's memory.


End file.
